It o another,

    t of the day.

    t from flute to flute,

    dressed in vegetation,

    in fligunnel

    the wind would pass

    to where birds were breaking open

    the dense blue air -

    and t came in.

    urned from so many journeys,

    I stayed suspended and green

    between sun and geography -

    I saw how wings worked,

    ransmitted

    by featelegraph,

    and from above I sah,

    tiles,

    t trades,

    trousers of the foam;

    I sa all from my green sky.

    I

    their courses,

    tiny, ser

    of the small bird on fire

    he pollen.